Hogwarts, born and raised
by BookLord88
Summary: One word, just one, changed the course of history and the fandom world as we know it. That word? Hogwarts. What if Harry was raised at Hogwarts, by Rubeus Hagrid. The main pairings will be slash. WOLFSTAR, DRARRY. Includes grandfather!dumbledore, Father!hagrid, semiwild!harry , cuteandfluffy!gaypairings insane!author :) Review!
1. Chapter 1

**HELLO PEOPLE OF THE FANDOM!**

 **I have returned with my first real-proper-people-will-read-and judge-story! No pressure right? Ok, so one day I was google-ing fanfiction to read, when a plot bunny hit me in the face. I have been planning and scheming and hopefully you guys like the result.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything (my first proper disclaimer! *fangirl*)**

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CHAPTER1

Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. they didn't think they could bare it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs potter was Mrs Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years, in fact, Mrs Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son too, but they had never seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away, they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.

When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on a dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work and Mrs Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window. At half past eight, Mr Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. 'Little tyke,' chortled Mr Dursley as he left the house. He got in his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar- a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr Dursley didn't realise what he had seen- then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? it must have been a trick of the light. Mr Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. it stared back. As Mr Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said _Privet Drive-_ no, looking at the sign, cats can't read maps or sign. Mr Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove towards town, he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr Dursley couldn't bare people who dressed in funny clothes- the get-ups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all, why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt- these people were obviously collecting for something...yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park , his mind back on drills.

Mr Dursley always sat with his back to his window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't , he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did, they pointed and gazed open mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them has never seen an owl, even at night time. Mr Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted some more. He was in a very good mood until lunch time, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the baker's opposite.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they mage him uneasy. This lot were whispering excitedly too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

'The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard-'

'-yes and their son Harry-'

Mr Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whispers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. He dashed back across the road , hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking...no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called potter who had a son named Harry. come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point worrying Mrs Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her- if he'd has a sister like that...but all the same, those people in cloaks...

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon, and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

'Sorry,' he grunted, as the tiny man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr Dursley realised that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem all that upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare:' Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating this happy, happy day!'

And then the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and walked off.

Mr Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought ha had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried back to his car and set off home, hoping that he'd been imaging things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw-and this didn't improve his mood- was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one, it had the same markings around its eyes.

'Shoo!' said Mr Dursley loudly.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs Dursley had had a nice normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learnt a new word (Shan't). Mr Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went to the living room to catch the last report on the evening news.

'And finally, birdwatchers everywhere have reported that the nations owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen during daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Expert are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.' the news reader allowed himself to grin. 'Most mysterious. And now over to Jim McGuffin for the weather. Going to be anymore showers of owls tonight Jim?'

'Well Ted,' said the weatherman, 'I don't know about that, but its not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people are celebrating Bonfire Night early- its not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.'

Mrs Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her.

'Er-Petunia, dear-you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?'

As he had suspected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they usually pretended that she didn't have a sister.

'No,' she said sharply. 'Why?'

Mr Dursley explained everything to her. She looked thoughtful and mad, and muttered a goodnight as she walked upstairs

* * *

While this was going on, something of greater importance was happening, just outside that very door.

A man appeared on the corner where the cat had been, and was still watching. He was tall, thin and very old judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which was long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground as he walked and high heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. Then at last he realised he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him. For some reason, he found this funny, and let out a chuckle and muttered, 'I should have known.'

He pulled something out from inside his cloak, which appeared to be a silver cigarette lighter, held it over his head and clicked. The light from the nearest street lamp went out. He repeated the action until the street was shrouded in darkness. No one looking out from a nearby window would see anything that would be happening on this street tonight.

He strolled over to where the cat was perched and sat down beside it. After a few moments he turned and said, 'Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall,' but where there had been a cat sitting earlier, there was a cat no more. In its place sat a strict looking woman with square glasses, her greying hair pulled back into a tight bun. She, like the man wore a strange (but slightly less colourful) assortment of robes and cloaks.

'How did you know it was me?' she asked, looking a bit put out.

'My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly.'

'You would be stiff too, you know. If you had been sitting on a brick wall all day.' she sniffed

'All day? I take it Hagrid told you.'

'Told me? of course he told me!' she exploded

'Would you like a sherbet lemon?' he asked, offering her a tin.

'A what?'

'Its a muggle sweet that I've grown rather fond of.' he said, unwrapping one.

'Now is hardly the time for a sherbet lemon! We have other thing to discuss.' she exclaimed. She paused, 'Albus... is it true? What they're saying?'

'There are many rumours flying around, you have to be more specific.'

'Well, what they're saying is that last night You-Know-Who-'

'Voldemort, Professor. Fear of a name only increases the fear of thing itself.' he chided.

'That last night _Voldemort_ turned up at Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The first part, is that Lily and James are-are, that they're _dead_!'

Dumbledore bowed his head.

'Oh Albus, no!' she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.

'There is a second part,' he nodded for her to continue

'The second part, is that he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But-he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows how, or why, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow, broke- that's why he's gone' she looked at him quizzically.

He nodded heavily, as though weighed down by grief.

'Is You- _Voldemort_ \- really gone then?'

'I don't think he died. To die you have to be mortal, he has too much dark magic inside him to still be mortal. He might never be truly gone.'

'Who has been looking after the boy for the last day?' she enquired.

'Why, me. And I have grown fond of Harry Potter. He is a rather bright child.' he allowed himself a small smile.

'And who, may I ask, shall be the child's permanent caretaker? He has no more living relatives.'

'That is not entirely true. We are here to leave the Harry with his aunt and uncle, from his mother's side.' he gestured towards the prim and proper house that was number four Privet Drive.

'You mean those Muggles? I've been watching them all day, they have a son and he's as spoilt and rotten as his parents! Can't you consider another option?' she pleaded.

'Its not like there _are_ other options Minerva! He needs a home where he wouldn't be hounded by the press and the media. Not to mention the fans or Voldemort's followers seeking revenge. If there was any other option, believe me, I would take it.' he responded.

'What about his godfather? Young Sirius Black, why can't he take the boy?' she drilled

'Sirius Black is currently in a holding cell in the depths of the Ministry of Magic, awaiting trial for betraying the Potters to Voldemort! He is innocent, of course. I did manage to get through to him. he told me that he couldn't raise a child and teach them about life, when he is still young and unsure, still finding his place in the world. He doesn't want to burden a child with the way he was raised, the only way he knows how to do! He is insecure, but a certain werewolf is helping him back on his feet.'

There was a moment of silence, both parties deep in thought, trying to find a solution to this problem.

Suddenly, McGonagall whispered something. Something that will change the course of history.

'Pardon?' asked Dumbledore, who was sure he had misheard.

'Hogwarts! The safest place on earth. No one can access it without you knowing. He can be tutored ahead and trained! He can live with a teacher, but who?' she fell back into deep thought.

Dumbledore considered this, thought over every possible reason or problem. 'He wouldn't be able to attend as a student then. If we tutor him ahead, then he would be ahead of his age group and we can't put him in a higher year because the school board would simply not allow a seven year old in a class of eleven year olds! All the teachers are in class all day. Who would find enough time to keep up with work and a child.'

'Who is bringing Harry here? Why didn't you bring him yourself?' she ventured, slightly off topic.

'Hagrid is bringing him. I apparated here, which has a bad effect on young children.' he mentioned idly.

Professor McGonagall then had her second brainwave of the night. 'Hagrid! He can raise Harry, we will all help of course, but Hagrid could be Harry's father figure. And he can teach him to help on the grounds.'

Dumbledore slowly started to smile, 'I'll inform him straight away! He'll be thrilled!

* * *

Meanwhile, in Hagrid's hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest...

Hagrid hummed to himself as he pulled on his goggles and prepared to take off on a flying motorcycle. This motorcycle in particular, belonged to Sirius Black, who had lent it to Hagrid a week ago. Hagrid was just strapping Harry in, when a small burst of flames appeared in front of him. A letter fell from the flames. Hagrid, who had been expecting this, expertly caught the letter and ripped it open. Inside was written,

 _Hagrid,_

 _There has been a change of plans. I have decided that the Dursley household would not, in fact, be the best place to place Harry. Harry will be staying at Hogwarts, but will not attend classes as he will be tutored ahead of his year. All the teachers shall help with the raising of Harry Potter, but the duty of a father figure has fallen to you. He shall live in your hut and you may teach him about your duties and the surrounding world._

 _Albus Dumbledore._

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 **AND... DONE!**

 **You have no IDEA how frustrating this was to type. The first part is directly from the book, but some parts are edited or cut to help this make sense.** **I will update as soon as possible because our term is nearly done (yay!) please review, follow or favourite.**

 **USELESS FACT OF THE DAY: my Best friend also writes fanfiction, so if you like WBWL fanfiction, go check out her story! its *Don't forget me by SolangeloShipper 14 23* I am her unofficial beta and am forcing her to update against her will. :) BTW chapters will get longer!**


	2. Chapter 2

**HELLO AGAIN!**

 **Hey guys. Yet again, so much drama to get this posted. It deleted or didn't want to work at least three times. But that's life you know! Thank you to all the people who reviewed, favourited or followed. When I got my first review, I happy danced around the house and nearly stepped on my cat. She's fine, she'll recover! On with the story!**

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CHAPTER 2

'Haggy, Haggy. Come see!' yelled an excited four year old Harry Potter, as he ran across a huge pumpkin patch to his dad, who was currently rolling a massive pumpkin towards the small hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

'Hel'o Harry! Wher'e yeh been?.' said Hagrid as he bent down to pick up his adoptive son, who was clutching a parchment in his hands, which he presented with a grin.

'Its a pic-ture. Aunty Minny has parchment and colours and she showed me what to do! Its a fam-ily por-tra-it.' he smiled widely , pronouncing the big words as best as he could.

'Blimey Harry! Tha's right. The'rs Grandpa Albus an' Aunty Minny, an' the'rs me an', Crikey! The'rs Fang. Well done Harry.' Hagrid gave his proud father smile, ruffled Harry's hair and the straightened his new round glasses that were constantly falling down.

Hagrid set his son back on the ground and watched him run back towards the castle.

He waved and yelled after him, 'Don' be late for supper! We're havin' leftovers from the start o' year feast!' Ah, they grow up so fast.

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Meanwhile, on the other side of the castle, in the heart of the Hogwarts Dungeon, the new first years were having their very first potions lesson.

'You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potions making.' said Professor Snape, using the same speech he had used every year.

'As there is-' he was interrupted by a loud knocking on the door to the dungeons, which was blocked by an enormous archway.

He paused, then let out a sigh, 'Enter.'

The door banged open and was the calmly closed. The first years, grateful for the interruption, craned their necks to see who dared interrupt the lesson of the feared potions master. To their complete astonishment, it was child. He looked no more than four years old, but was a very interesting sight indeed. His hair was raven black and long-ish. It was braided back into multiple complex and complicated styles, including beads and feathers, to keep it out of his face. He wore large round glasses perched on his nose, magnifying his pretty emerald green eyes. But strangest of all, he was smiling, at _Snape_!

Professor Snape, who had turned to his desk to put down papers, turned around at the sound of footsteps. He turned just in time to swiftly catch the child who had thrown himself at him. The child laughed and hugged the Professor, who let out a grudging smile.

'What do you have there Harry?' he asked him.

The child, whose name was apparently Harry, smiled and showed him what was in his hand, and then whispered something in Snape's ear.

'Thank you Harry. Run along now, Grandpa was looking for you earlier.' he set Harry back on the ground.

Harry started back to the door, and without turning around, yelled, 'Bye Uncle Severus!'

The door closed behind him. There was silence in the potions class.

'Ahem, as I was saying, As there is-'

* * *

Harry Potter was a rather advanced child. Which was not surprising, considering he grew up in a school filled with educated Professors and older students, who were always willing to teach a new spell to the likeable toddler . In fact, he was almost always around students. Like today, for example, Harry was five years old and was nearing the end of another lesson. This time in the middle of the Gryffindor common room.

'See Harry? Win- GAR-dium Levi-O-sa.' lectured Tristan Yew, a fourth year student, as he handed Harry his wand to help him with the wand movement.

Harry repeated him and Tristan helped him to wave the wand. The book on the table lifted into the air. Their audience of third and fourth years clapped for him.

'There we go! Next week I'll show you how to do the wand movement by yourself. Hell, its two o'clock! I promised Hagrid I'd have you back by half past, he says he has something to show you Harry. I wonder what it could be?' Tristan picked up his little friend, who waved goodbye to his audience, and started back to the homey hut on the edge of the grounds.

'Hello Hagrid!' he announced as he arrived. 'Half past, as promised!'

'Hel'o again Tristan. Wha' did you an' the other Gryffindors teach him this time?' asked Hagrid as he, yet again, straightened Harry's glasses. The child was entertaining himself with a wooden spoon he had found on the table.

'Oh, we taught him some basic first year spells. He can't really do the wand movement by himself yet, but he will definitely master it next time I can tell you that!'

'First year spells? An' he can do it by himself? But, tha's, blimey.' Hagrid was speechless. Five years old and already learning first year spells! He would be years ahead of everyone his age. His official tutoring could start a lot earlier than expected. Hagrid seemed to shake himself out of his speechless-ness and muttered a goodbye as Tristan left.

'Harry, did Tristan tell you tha' I wanted to show yeh sommat?' he smiled kindly at the child as he removed the wooden spoon from his mouth.

'Yes.' the casual observer would be astounded at what amazing English he could speak. 'He did say that you wanted to show me something. He didn't know what though.'

'Its in th'e forest Harry. So we need te be extr'a careful. Com' on. You can sit on my shoulder.'

This was the safest mode of travel for him. Even though Harry knew his way all over the castle and grounds, he only knew the basic routes around the forest. Harry had, what appeared to be a nearly perfect memory and therefore only had to be shown how to do something a few times. Hagrid's shoulder was wide and was padded, because of the huge overcoat he wore. Harry clung to his beard when he needed to, but most of the time he just sat there taking in his surroundings.

So this unlikely couple of father and son ventured into the Forbidden Forest. Harry loved the forest. Actually, he loved anything that was mysterious or could turn into an adventure.

They had been walking for about three hours, when Hagrid started talking. 'So Harry. As yeh know, it was yeh birthday a few weeks ago, bu' yeh present wasn' ready yet. I finished it this mornin'. Cover yeh eyes!' he said. Harry obeyed, giggling.

'All righ't! Open 'em.'

Harry open his eyes and gasped. They were standing at the foot of an enormous oak tree. its branches were spread high and far. Not the biggest tree in the hundreds of years old forest, but still huge. That wasn't all. Oh, definitely _not_ all! perched in its branches was a wild looking, thrown together, disguised treehouse. It had a medium sized patio, with vines hanging from the rails along the side. making the whole thing disappear. The wood it was made out of was a similar colour of the tree itself, and to complete the look, the was a rough rope ladder hanging down the side of the tree. Overall, it was jumbled and generally looked homey.

'Oh wow!' Harry gaped at this amazing present. He then turned and hugged Hagrid's leg (the highest place he could reach). 'Thank you Haggy! Wow. Its so beautiful!'

Hagrid turned red. 'Righ't well, go up then. I don' fit. I'll come an' fetch yeh in an hour.'

Harry laughed and ran toward the rope ladder. He then climbed like a monkey to the top, another of the numerous skills that Hagrid though was necessary for a growing boy to learn. He got to the top and looked around. The roof of the house didn't breach the canopy above him, but if he climbed further up, he would see the whole grounds. There was a wooden chair and table, both made by Hagrid, sitting on the patio. Harry walked towards the door and tried the handle. It was locked. He then noticed a small, old looking key on a chain lying on the table.

Once the door was unlocked, he pushed it open. Inside it wasn't big, but it wasn't cramped either. On the floor lay a forest green rug, matching the curtains on the one downstairs window. There was a tiny kitchen complete with a stove and cupboards. Up against another wall, was a bigger cupboard. Upon inspection, it contained blankets, matches, candles, a toothbrush and a few dishcloths. Next to this cupboard was a bookshelf stocked with survival books and household spells. There was, sort of an upstairs? It only covered half the room, the other half was open. Harry climbed another ladder, this one made of wood, to find what he assumed was his bed room. In the corner was a wooden bed with the same colour scheme as the rug and curtains downstairs. There was a candle next to the bed on a small table. Another window was above the bed, with the same curtains as downstairs.

Harry had been grinning the whole way through his tree house. He examined the large window, it seemed big enough for an adult to climb out of. Harry loved climbing, so he basically through himself out the window and climbed the branches that snaked past his window. The adrenalin pulsed through his veins as he scaled the ancient tree as far as he could go. When he reached the canopy, he stuck his head out and laughed. He sat on a strong branch looking out over the complete and utter beauty that was Hogwarts.

His home.

* * *

 **AND...DONE!**

 **I could have written more flashes of Harry's childhood (I have so many planned!), but this felt like a good place to finish.**

 **A FEW IMPORTANT NOTES:**

 **-Hagrid's accent is hard as hell to write, but it is necessary and is part of his over all personality. Most of it was checked from the book about how he speaks, but the other bit is me saying it out loud and spelling it how I feel like it should be spelt.**

 **-No Harry will not be attending Hogwarts as a student. This is because Dumbledore doesn't think that Voldemort is gone, and that Harry will be the one to deal with him. And this provides so many places where I can screw with people like Umbridge later in the story.**

 **This week was really busy, next time my update will come faster! Promise**

 **PEACE**


	3. Chapter 3

**HIIIIII!**

 **Hey guys. Again, more childhood memories and important relations between characters. In about two, or maybe even three chapters the real plot shall begin! Its holidays here now, so I will have about a week to write as much as possible (weekends are for anime/manga!) Enjoy.**

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Chapter 3

As Harry Potter grew with age, he also flourished in mental and physical abilities. This did not mean he was perfect. For example, he was a very stubborn child and nothing could hold his attention for long. He had the handwriting of a heart rate monitor. As to say, only trained professionals could read it. But despite all of his many ups and downs, he had lots of friends. The making of his first best friend, would, in fact lead to a much bigger picture. And it was all thanks to a troublesome poltergeist...

Harry was six years old at the time, wondering the halls on a Sunday morning, the rest of the castle still asleep. He was exploring, and eventually came across a passage that lead past the Gryffindor common room. There were loud voices that came echoing past.

'Peeves! I'm warning you, give it back.' growled a frustrated fifth year student as he clenched his fists.

'Ooooo, is it important? So you won't mind if I keep it would you!' laughed Peeves as he waved the papers over his head. The poltergeist in question was floating above the fifth years head, just out of reach.

'This essay took me two weeks to write. And its due tomorrow! McGonagall will most _definitely_ fail me and I need to pass transfiguration this year.' pleaded the fifth year.

'Since you put it that way, NOPE! I think I'll rip it into teeny, tiny little pieces.' he cackled

'Stop.'

Both parties turned to see who had spoken. It was a young boy of about six years old with black hair pulled back into braids, emerald green eyes and big round glasses. He had a slight tan of someone who lived outdoors, and was calmly walking into the passage way.

'Peeves, return his essay.'

'Yes sir, right away. My apologies, it was all in good fun.' rambled Peeves, who was looking a little pale. He handed the paper back to the astonished fifth year and then zoomed away.

The child smiled pleasantly up at him. 'Sorry about him. He does this to everyone you know.'

The fifth year blinked, and then smiled at the friendly kid standing next to him. 'Thanks, you saved my transfiguration mark. I'm Bill by the way. Bill Weasley.'

'And I'm Harry Potter. But you already knew that.' they shook hands and continued the trek to the great hall.

'I heard from the prefects that Peeves only listens to Dumbledore and the Bloody Barron. How is it that he listened to you?' enquired Bill.

'Well, Grandpa has shown me many tricks on how to deal with pesky poltergeists. Oh, and Peeves is scared of my father.' smiled Harry.

'And who, may I ask-'

'My Grandpa is Dumbledore and my dad is Hagrid.'

'Ah.' for the first time, the older boy was rendered speechless by his new friend.

That would defiantly not be the last.

* * *

After that incident, Bill and Harry were inseparable. And, eventually, when Bill introduced his brothers and friends, the same thing happened. In total, they were an unlikely group of friends, ages ranging from six through seventeen!

Charlie, who was in third year, got along well with Harry, and even with Hagrid. They all had an interest in dragons or any unusual creature that happened to come up in conversation. The youngest in school, Percy, on the other hand, was a bit stuck up. Harry took no time in pointing out that he walked like he had a stick up his arse. This earned him a time out with Professor McGonagall, but in the end, the both of them became friends just the same.

The only negative affect of hanging out with older years, is that Harry developed a swearing habit. Professors Snape and McGonagall disapproved of Harry's so called 'Potty mouth'. This was later changed to 'Potter's Mouth' as a joke, but stuck and became an running joke among the staff.

* * *

Of all the relationships Harry had with students and teachers, the strangest one was with Dumbledore. Harry called him Grandpa, and openly hugged him when possible. They spent numerous hours in the Headmaster's office, where 'Grandpa' taught Harry all sorts of interesting hobbies and skills. For example, how to braid his hair. This involved multiple styles using beads and feathers (Fawkes was not amused). To each other, they were family in all but blood

Another relationship, that confused the students, was the one of Harry and Snape. In the beginning, everyone assumed that Severus would want nothing to do with the boy. To their utmost surprise, Harry and Snape got along quite well. Harry made a point to visit the professor as often as he could and, to Harry, Severus was the gruff old uncle who pretended not to, but secretly did, enjoy his company. This might stem from the fact that Professor Snape was one of the main teachers who taught Harry to talk.

And so it went. Every teacher, one by one, joined Harry's extended family. But, out of all his hobbies and ways he kept himself busy, his favourite was to go adventuring in the forbidden forest with his dad. Sometimes it was because of Hagrid's job, like keeping the peace with the centaurs, keeping track of the population of unicorns, that sort of thing. Most often it was something more exciting. Catching food for the tamed creatures, visiting Aragog or herding the thestrals (which is _not_ easy). Each and every time, Harry was there. Learning and observing, taking in information and memorising things he would find useful. This was pretty much how Harry spent his days. Until Professor Dumbledore called Harry to his office.

'My dear boy, as you know, I don't believe that Voldemort is or will ever be truly gone. If I am correct, this problem shall fall into your hands. We have discussed the reasons for this of course.' said Dumbledore once they were seated at the desk.

'This means my education will be starting earlier than the rest of the people my age, yes I remember. But, I can't be in a house or a class because the governors have found it unwise to place me in a higher year.' nodded Harry. They had had this conversation the year before.

'Therefore, you will be tutored separately, in private advanced courses by the staff. Your official education shall begin in January. You will, of course, not follow the term program and have the advantage of the holidays to be taught. Prepare yourself.'

* * *

As it turned out, Harry's first lesson was Defence Against the Dark Arts. This proved to be entertaining, considering he barely knew the teacher. It was hard to get close to a professor of this subject, keeping in mind they never lasted more than a year. This year's professor was the most interesting yet. His name was Professor Jay Bower and he was in Hufflepuff. He always had his nose in a book and was very lively to talk to. The professor was kind, and from what he heard from the students, very good at teaching.

When leaving the classroom, Harry decided that he agreed and would be sad if he left. But the position was cursed. Everyone knew that. Grandpa had explained how this came to be, when Harry had asked him. As he walked to the great hall, a thought appeared, that made him clench his fists.

 _I will find you Voldemort. And I will end you._

* * *

 **BOOYA!**

 **Whew, that ending was improvised. Kinda violent for a six year old, but hey! This is dedicated to my sister, who dragged me away from manga to finish this. And then when she read it over and laughed at my spelling/grammar mistakes.**

 **See Ya!**


	4. Chapter 4

**SUP.**

 **Okay, so I know this one was later than usual, but hear me out.**

 **1: It was my birthday last week, and I felt like spending my week with my friends and family.**

 **2: I honestly lost track of time.**

 **3: I forgot. Oops!**

* * *

CHAPTER 4

So by now you must have gotten the gist. Harry does something scary/brave/awesome etc, and he then immediately makes another BFF. And so, more years past. He watched his friends come and go, growing up and moving on with their lives. Harry obviously stayed in touch with his really close friends. As much as he loved them, they were older and left Hogwarts very quickly. One thing he had always dreamed of was to have a friend his age. And today was the day.

Because today was September 1st. This was the day where all the new first years joined the school, but this year it was particularly exciting. These first years would have been Harry's classmates if he attended Hogwarts. Harry viewed this as his chance to make this dream come true.

As every year, Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a smaller chamber and told them to wait there. When she left they immediately started to whisper among themselves.

'Why are we here, I wond-'

'You know, my brothers told me-'

'What house are you aiming for Hannah?'

'Good gracious, who's toad is this?'

'Well I'd love Gryffindor.'

'Trevor!'

'I heard that Harry Potter should be in this class, comon then, which one is Harry Potter?'

There was silence after that comment.

'Well, who is it then?' asked Seamus Finnigan.

'He's not here?'

'Well _I_ heard from _my_ brothers that he will be making an appearance.' announced a proud looking Ron Weasley.

The whole room burst into talking, no one was bothering to whisper this time.

Suddenly, a group of ghosts floated through a nearby wall over their heads. And strangest of all, below them, also going through the wall, was a child looking to be of similar age. They were continuing a conversation as if the wall had never been there.

'Yes, Yes I quite agree. My dear friar, we have given Peeves enough chances! We should decide on a permanent punishment.' exclaimed a ghost, dressed as a knight from the Victorian era.

'Maybe so, but he means no real harm in his tricks.' reasoned the boy.

'Ha! You say that only because you are one of the only people that he listens to! There is no real argument. I-' he cut off, noticing for the first time they were not alone.

'Oh my, so these are the new first years. Blimey, I swear they're getting smaller.' laughed one ghost to his friend.

One of the first years broke away from the rest, walked over to the boy and stuck out his hand.

'The names Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.' the gangly red head boy in front of the group snorted at this. Draco turned around and glared at him.

'What, you think my names funny do you? At least I have a name that I can be proud of. Unlike you, probably another Weasley.' he said stiffly. This caught the boy's attention.

'Weasley? You're Ron aren't you.' he walked up and calmly shook his hand. Ron looked shocked. So did everyone else.

'Wha-'

'I know your brothers. All of them. My names Harry.' he grinned shaking his braids out of his face.

'Potter? Wait a minute. Treehouse?'

'Treehouse!' they laughed at the key word.

'Hey, Harry. Why's it taking so long in the hall?' asked Ron nervously.

'They're preparing the arena and making sure the troll-'

'Harry Potter! will you stop scaring the first years and get into the Great Hall? Your father is looking everywhere for you.' scolded Professor McGonagall as she opened the door.

'Sorry Aunt- oops, I mean, Professor McGonagall. Don't worry guys I was just screwing with you.' he waved to them and then strolled out the door whistling.

Professor McGonagall sighed, 'And that students, is Harry Potter. He lives on the grounds with his father and is tutored ahead of his year. He enjoys scaring the new comers so don't listen to a word he says. Alright, make a line please it is now your turn to take your place among the walls of Hogwarts.

* * *

The Great Hall echoed with talking and laughing children. The first years had been sorted and placed into their respective houses and food was being passed down to the hungry students. Somewhere along the line, Harry left the staff table to sit with his Gryffindor friends.

'So you're in Gryffindor Harry?' asked Ron.

'No mate, weren't you listening? Harry doesn't have a house. He's a drifter. He takes turns to sit with his friends in the different houses.' said Fred as he scooped mashed potatoes onto his steak, folded it in half and then ate it like a sandwich.

'So you don't have to attend classes and you're not in a house. Then what's the point of living in a school?' Ron asked, swiftly copying Fred's "steak sandwich". Harry was about to respond, when a girl a seat across replied for him.

'Isn't it obvious, Hogwarts is the safest place in Europe. Not just any one can enter the wards, haven't you even opened a copy of Hogwarts a History?' she lectured.

'Yeah, that and my dads groundskeeper.' he motioned towards the staff table. Everyone turned and stared. It was Hagrid, the man who let them into Hogwarts. He caught them staring and waved back.

'Wow, you're so lucky! You get to be tutored by some of the best professors in the world. And to live in a castle no less! Oh, I'm Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you.'

Harry smiled. It seems that his dream would come true.

* * *

 **AND...DONE!**

 **Whew. So sorry about the lateness. Its exams in about a week, so updates could be a few weeks apart. Anyway.**

 **GUYS I'M BEGGING YOU FOR FEEDBACK! IT TAKES LIKE 10 SECONDS PLEASE REVIEW.**

 **peace**


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